CRASH: An Evil Dead MC Story (The Outlaw Series) (6 page)

“What you were put on this earth to do is sit there and look pretty,” he
taunted, knowing it would get to her. “Which
you
do very well.” He noticed her go a little soft at his
roundabout compliment. That’s when he grinned as he raised the bottle to his
lips and added the final zinger. “You just need to get the shuttin’ up part
down.”

She glared at him. “Is it all women you hate or just me?”

He turned to look at her then. “I don’t hate women. I love women.
Fucking greatest gift God ever put on this planet.”

“You sure don’t sound like it.”

He grinned. “Maybe it’s just you.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes.

They sat quietly for a while, Crash enjoying his smoke and her enjoying
the view.

Several bottles of beer later, Shannon looked out at the horizon,
watching the glittering lights coming on as the fading light brought on the
darkness of night. A moon reflected off the distant bay, creating a single
shimmering trail of light across the dark water. Suspended across the bay, she
could see the gloomy hulking shadow of the bridge outlined with tiny lights.

Unobtrusively, she tried to study the man next to her out of the corner
of her eye. He wasn’t like any man in her life. Sure, she’d known her share of
attractive men, confident men, even powerful men. But not in the same way that
this man was. There was just something about him that was hard to define, hard for
her to put her finger on. He had a commanding presence, sure, but then, she’d
been around men like that before. He seemed uncompromising, but then so did her
father.

She bit her lip, considering. Sure, men like her father could be
intimidating and forceful in the right setting, such as a business meeting or
office setting. But a man like Crash would be intimidating and dominant in any
setting. She was sure he just had to walk in a room, and he would command
attention. It was that alpha dog mentality she supposed. At the same time, she
sensed a quiet calm about him as if nothing would rile him or shake him from
his confidence. She got the feeling there wouldn’t be too many circumstances
that he couldn’t calmly handle.

It gave her a sense of peace and security knowing a man like that was at
her side and would be until this whole thing was over, protecting her, looking
out for her.

Shannon took a deep breath and lay her head back, letting the worry flow
out of her and feeling herself relax for the first time in a long time. It
wasn’t long before the tenseness of her body unwound.

She
stifled a yawn.

“Tired,
Princess?”

She
exhaled a breath. “Stop calling me that.”

“Nope.
You’re stuck with it.”

“I
have a name.”

“Yeah.
What you don’t have is a choice. So,
Princess
,
you tired?”

She
rolled her head toward him, and a smile tugged at her mouth. “Yeah, a little,”
she admitted.

“Ready
for bed?” he asked. Grabbing up the pail and all their empties, he stood.

Swinging
her legs to the ground, she grabbed up her shoes, and his hand was immediately
extended in front of her. Glancing up at him, she put her hand in his, and he
pulled her up. “Such a gentleman,” she admired.

“Yes,
ma’am.”

She
frowned wondering if she’d caught the barest hint of a southern accent. “Where
are you from, Crash?”

“Alabama.
Birmingham to be exact.”

“Ah,
a southern boy, huh?”

He
huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. A lifetime ago. Still got a sister and a grandmother
back home.”

“How
long have you been out here?”

He
shrugged. “I don’t know. Ten years, maybe.”

“Why?”

“Why
what?”

“Why
are you out here? Why California?”

“Why
not?”

That
wasn’t really an answer, and they both knew it. He turned and headed towards
the door, apparently done with the topic. He held the door for her. Once
inside, he moved to the kitchen to throw away their empties.

Shannon
scanned the room. “What happened to my bag, by the way?”

He
glanced at her over his shoulder as he dumped the ice into the sink. “Cole will
bring it by tomorrow. Him or one of the guys. Why? What do you need?”

“My
things, obviously. Something to sleep in for starters,” she replied.

Crash
leaned his palms on the island. “Sorry, darlin’. Guess that leaves you with
three choices. One of my tees, your bra and panties, or naked.” He grinned. “I
vote for door number three.”

Her
eyebrows shot up. “You don’t get a vote. Besides, you’ll be on the couch, so
you’ll never get to find out.”

“Hmm,
maybe I’ll come sneak a peek while you’re asleep.”

The
smirk faded from her face.

“I’m
kidding, Princess.” He moved out of the kitchen, and Shannon watched him
disappear into the bedroom area behind the chains. A lamp switched on, and
through the links of chain she could make out the silhouette of his form moving
around. She watched as he pulled his tee over his head. The sound of a drawer
opening and closing carried to her. A moment later he reappeared, walking
toward her. He had on a pair of dark charcoal-grey sweatpants, riding low on
his hips…and nothing else. His chest and abs on gorgeous display. Taut muscles
shaped his body all the way up his arms and across his broad shoulders. He had
tattoos on both arms and some awesome tribal art running vertically down the
outside of his right ribs highlighting a six-pack to die for. Lord that was
sexy as all hell. Her eyes dropped lower to the sexy v that started at his hips
and disappeared into the low-slung waistband. And there, she caught the top
edge of another tattoo peeking above the waistband. Lord, she wondered, how
many did he have?

Her
eyes lifted when he was almost to her, a clean folded tee held in his fist. He
tossed it to her. Grabbing it, she clutched it to her chest. He moved around
the loft, turning off lights, and her eyes followed him. Good Lord, the back
view was just as good. His shoulders were broad, his back muscled to
perfection, all the way down to the two dimples at the base of his spine. Get a
grip, Shannon, she told herself. Snatching her shoulder bag off the island, she
moved toward the bathroom as he moved toward the sectional couch. Out of the
corner of her eye, she saw him lie down, jam a throw-pillow under his head and
pull an afghan off the back of the couch.

Crash
watched Shannon disappear into the bathroom, her purse clutched in her arms,
and he thought about the way those arms had clutched his body as he’d ridden
her here on the back of his bike. She’d felt good there. And then, in the
elevator when he’d had her body pressed up against his, all soft feminine
curves. Shit, he’d gotten hard on the spot. He’d gotten a whiff of her perfume,
and the arousing scent had gone straight to his brain, that part of his brain
that had him feeling suddenly in all animal instinct mode. And then tonight,
out on the roof, the sight of those fuckin’ legs. Christ. Maybe he’d been a
fool to volunteer for this hell. He was going to spend the next couple of weeks
in a perpetual state of hard-on. What the fuck had he been thinking? He hadn’t
been thinking, or even worse, he’d been thinking with his dick.

A
few minutes later, she emerged and headed towards the bedroom. He watched her
pause in the doorway, no doubt wondering about the long strands of paperclips,
strung together, that made up the childish ‘beaded-curtain-like’ door, if you
could call it that. He waited, but she didn’t ask about them. He’d have to tell
her about the meaning behind them one of these days. He stopped her before she
went inside his bedroom. There was one thing he wanted to say to her.

“Shannon?”
He watched her hand drop from the strands and look back at him. “About this guy
you’re runnin’ from? I know you don’t want to talk about him, and that’s okay.
But I just want to give you one piece of advice when dealing with guys like
that. Always
trust the voice in your head. Trust your instincts. Trust your gut.”

She
nodded.

“Night,
Princess.”

“Night,”
she replied and moved inside the bedroom.

He
lie watching her dark silhouette move around the room in the dim light of the
bedside lamp.

Fuck.

He
should have lain down in the other direction. At this angle, he couldn’t help
but watch as her arms lifted, and the dress was pulled over her head and tossed
aside. He swallowed. Then her arms were reaching behind her, unfastening the
clasp of her bra. He bit his lower lip, willing her to turn and give him a
profile shot. And then he got his wish as she turned to reach for his tee
laying on the bed.

Christ.

The
tee went over her head and down. And then she was crawling into his bed. His
bed
. Just the thought of her in
his tee
, in
his bed
was making him hard as a rock. Fuck, what was he doing out
here? Everything inside him was telling him—no screaming at him to get up, and
go in there.

The
light flicked out, and it was darkness. But still, in his mind’s eye, all he
could see was the silhouetted profile of her body. That image would be burned
in his brain for a long time. Maybe forever.

*****

“Well?”
Angel asked.

Cole
grinned and shook his head. He’d known the minute he walked through the door
tonight, she’d be all over him for details. “She’s fine.” He walked further
into the dimly lit kitchen. He grabbed Angel around the waist, pulling her
nightgown-clad body up against his and kissed her. Her arms came around his
neck, and he deepened the kiss. When he finally lifted his head, she pushed
back on his shoulders and looked past him.

“Where
is she? Did you leave her at the clubhouse? I’m not sure that’s any place for
her, honey.”

Cole
stepped over to the counter and picked up the glass of milk Angel had been
pouring. He chugged down half of it before turning to answer her. “She’s not at
the clubhouse.”

“Well,
where is she?”

“She’s
with Crash.”

“Crash?”

“Um-hmm,”
he replied and watched as a thoughtful expression formed on his wife’s face. He
took another gulp of milk and asked, “What’s that look?”

Her
beautiful green eyes came to him. “What look?”

“That
look.”

She
shrugged. “It could work, that’s all.”

“What
could work?” He frowned and took another gulp of milk.

“The
two of them.”

Cole
about spewed the milk. “In what universe could those two work?”

“Cole.”
She rolled her eyes and turned to walk away. He grabbed her hand, pulling her
back.

“No,
no. This I’ve got to hear.”

“He’s
grounded. Nothing shakes Crash. He’s rock solid.”

“Yeah,
so?”

“So,
I think she needs someone like that. Her drama won’t fly with him.”

“I’ve
got news for you, baby. It won’t fly with most men.”

“Yes,
but Crash won’t let it phase him. She could throw a tantrum, and he’d just
smile and shake his head.”

Cole
didn’t say anything, thinking over the points she was making.

“Am
I right?” she pressed.

“Maybe,”
he half-heartedly agreed, mostly because he didn’t want to admit she was right.

“And
if she’s not as tough as
you
think
she is, if deep-down she’s more the scared little girl
I
think she is, he’s going to make her feel safe.”

“That
is
why she came to us, to feel safe.”

“They’re
going to be together twenty-four-seven. She’s going to start to trust him, to
depend on him. That’s going to affect her, whether she wants it to or not.”

“What
are we talking about here, some kind of hero-worship complex?”

“Maybe.”

“Christ,
when did I marry a psychologist?”

“You
didn’t.”

“Right.
I didn’t. So, let’s leave the psycho-analysis to the professionals.” Cole
downed the rest of her milk, and then, almost as if he couldn’t get what she’d
said out of his head, he murmured, “Shit, I’d hate for either of them to get
hurt.”

“Are
you worried about Shannon or Crash?”

“Both.”

“Maybe
he needs someone to shake him up a little,” she said with a sly grin.

“Fuck.”

“What?
Am I wrong?”

“Shut
up, and kiss me, woman.”

*****

Shannon
lie staring up at the skylights high up in the ceiling. She could see a sliver
of the moon through one of them. Her eyes fell to the posts of the enormous antique
bed she was lying in. It was a beautiful bed. King size and super comfortable.
She could hear the sound of an occasional car driving past, but other than that
it was quiet. Crash was sleeping. She could hear his slumbered breathing.